Hello guys! *waves*
Good to see you all again! If you're new to my works, hello! Nice to meet you!
o(≧∇≦o)
I'm Mayumi Sato and I'm more known for writting "Between Vows"(that will be updated today or tomorrow btw)!
I disappeared for a while because I was writting three new works for a event that I organize in the brazilian part of the fandom. Then I took some rest and finally I'm finished with the translation of one of these works! Yeah, sorry about that but you will have updates real soon and you have this new little story for you!
Reviews and likes would be a great, great motivation for me to keep doing my best so please give me some feedback if you can!
ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ
Again, I want to thank lovely and wonderful miss Zeplerfer that always helps me A LOT with the revision of my works. Thanks, really! You're too kind, dear! Thank you very much!
I wish you all a great reading experience and a lovely day! Cya~
ヾ（〃＾∇＾）ﾉ
Notice.
"BE MY GIRLFRIEND LIZZY"
Alcohol was never a motivator of good choices and that was not one of the best messages Gilbert Beilschmidt had written. Even if most of the feelings behind that message posted on the college bulletin board didn't come exactly from a romantic sentimentalism on his part but from a frustration with the fact that the girl he was mildly interested had said he had no chance with her during a night out with their friends to celebrate the end of that month's tests, laughing and commenting on that hypothetical possibility with a "Come on, Gilbert! We both know that we would be a terrible couple! We probably would be jumping at each other in a week and not a sexy way!". Regardless of his feelings about that matter, he didn't like that comment. Not even a bit. His crush for Lizzy wasn't intense, long or deep. It was more like an idea that "You know, this girl could be a good girlfriend." than a feeling. Still that didn't mean that Lizzy had the right to snub him like that in front of their circle of friends.
Angry, he drank a little beyond the limits and for some reason, that drunk confession in the middle of a board that all the college could see, had seemed the best idea to prove how attractive, irresistible and seductive he was, to make Lizzy realize what she was losing with that terrible taste in men.
Honestly, he was so drunk that didn't even remembered what had happened. After going to bed and sleep until noon to regain his strength and perhaps some neuron's connections, he followed the rest of his day normally. It was only in the afternoon of that same day, when he was checking the bulletin board just to see if there would be any interesting seminars next semester, that he came across this public love confession. At first, laughing at the poor loser who had printed such a pathetic thing ... Just before he ran over a series of scenes from last night, coming to a fateful conclusion. Oh no. Shit. He was the loser ... I mean, author.
Well, he had to remain calm. He had to keep a cool head. If he started to freak out in front of that note, it would attract a lot more of attention.
Analyzing carefully the contents of the paper, he saw, to his momentary relief, that the note had been printed and was unsigned, making it difficult to identify the author of the message. Phew, at least. Less bad. Still, if that was left there, it would be only a matter of time before Lizzy thought "Who among my acquaintances calls me Lizzy and is idi ... intrepid enough to do such a thing?". He needed to find a way to get rid of it while no one was looking.
That would be what he would have done if he had not noticed, when he was about to pull it, a message written in lower case letters, so small that he had not noticed it at first glance, with impeccable handwriting.
"If you were able to put a comma before the vocative, she may have wanted to be with you."
Hey. HEY!
Hold on!
Gilbert could not forgive a remark like that on his public love confession! Even if that had been a pretty dumb idea, he didn't think anyone had the right to say anything about that beyond himself.
'Kay, in a more rational perspective, he should totally have torn that shameful note while no one had associated it with him. However, that pretentious asshole deserved an answer and on Gilbert's mental list of priorities that became the main issue. He would not be insulted like that without giving that jerk a good burning.
"Shut up." - He wrote in a line that summed up very well his feelings about this insult.
Done! There it was. That was how much importance he gave to the opinion of the stranger. HA! In their face!
With a sense of personal satisfaction for not having swallowed that offense, Gilbert returned home and engaged in his studies, way less concerned about his problem with Lizzy. Everyone had a silly story related to alcohol.
The drunk message remained in the same place and the odds that the stranger would read his response were very small, however that was not the point. His needed to get back at the stranger and defend his honor to feel better about that incident; he was satisfied with that little retaliation on his part and that was all that mattered. He could pull out the paper later without any problems. It wasn't like that person was bored to the point of starting a discussion in the middle of the college bulletin board.
A day later, surprisingly, an answer actually appeared. When Gilbert went to the wall with the plan to tear down his public love confession, he noted that a phrase, written in familiar and pompous letters, had been added on the paper.
"I do not know whether to admire or reproach your complete lack of creativity in giving insults."
The person with impeccable handwriting and an awful personality persisted in their unbearably rude and intrusive behavior. They weren't affected by Gilbert's indifferent response, showing a sharp tongue that wouldn't be forgiven.
As stated, at first, Gilbert's reply had not counted on the possibility of receiving a new answer from that anonymous. That said, he wrote it just to:
01. Defend his honor in public. Because although it was kind of humiliating having people seeing that message, letting an insult go unnoticed would be goddamn humiliating ... If he properly defended himself maybe there was a remote possibility that people would see his action as the courageous act of a romantic rather than a bad idea from a drunk guy. That was his logic, at least, and even if no one knew the author's identity, he would feel more comfortable if his secret persona kept the glorious reputation of its original owner. Especially considering the possibility that someone ended up discovering who he was.
02. Throwing his feelings of frustration, nervousness and insecurity at a random stranger instead of dealing with them.
His intentions ended there. The End. Seriously. He had never thought of making that quick dialogue into a debate. However, now that the stranger had responded - with that goddamn petulant attitude, no less - the fight had become personal.
"Well, at least I'm not a nerd obsessed with grammar that has nothing better to do!"
Gilbert wrote it in the heat of the moment, adding a drawing of an angry face to the end of the sentence to emphasize the feeling he was trying to transmit. Maybe he was kinda going over the line, but come on! That nerd gave him no other options! He wasn't sorry to have attacked back. Not at all!
Urghh. Alright, alright, initially, Gilbert had worry just a little bit about the emotional response of the person reading that message, because he had been very offensive while talking back to the stranger, but his worry proved to be completely unnecessary, since the answer he received was this:
"Nerd? Seriously? Do you think we're in high school? I perfectly understand why this Lizzy doesn't want you."
Well, apparently, it was not that easy to shake off The High and Mighty Boring Boredom of the Great Boring Beings III.
"How do you know if she doesn't want me, huh ?"
New day, new response, same petulance.
"You would not be so offended if she had enjoyed your childish gesture. The fact that you keep the note here and still bother to answer it every day proves that you were completely rejected and are projecting your frustrations onto me."
Urghhhhh!
"Who the fuck are you?! My therapist?! "
That person was so persistent! Day after day, rain or sun, they found a way to reply to Gilbert's comments with small provocations written in immaculate handwriting. Checking the stranger's answer on the note soon became a habit for Gilbert Beilschmidt. A normal part of his routine - as strange as it might sound to use the term "normal" in this context.
It became especially difficult to avoid this habit when the stranger went on to reveal small, incremental portions of their personality and personal history.
"Oh, no. Psychology is not my area of interest. I am nothing more than a student attentive to the events of this college who has difficulties in bearing to see someone exposing themselves to ridicule. What made you think she would be won with a love note on a bulletin board? Honestly?"
A student who wasn't studying psychology, huh?
That was the first message that Gilbert didn't respond in a mad rush.
This answer actually made him stop for a while to think about the person with whom he was corresponding.
Until that moment, for him, the stranger was just this boring being without identity, giving idiotic answers. Kinda like an uninvited "Cleverbot" with an extra dose of criticism and a biting mood. It may seem somewhat strange, but Gilbert had never given much thought to the fact that the person who was answering his messages ... Well, happened to be a real person. Someone with classes, a social life on the campus and probably other concerns besides annoying a stranger on a paper posted in a bulletin board. Seen from that angle, that person could even be considered Gilbert's "classmate", right? Wow. That sounded so strange.
Well, he didn't even know the person's identity. Still, they had been peculiar, and therefore intriguing, enough to keep answering every comment he made, every single day, on the very public place where the college's events were announced. This was more than some people in Gilbert's social networks ever did.
In the end, Gilbert Beilschmidt concluded that since his public image wouldn't be affected by his conversation with this stranger, why not take the chance to be honest and vent about that embarrassing incident? He probably would not have other opportunities to do this, since that wasn't a subject he could discuss with his circle of friends. Lizzy was in his circle of friends.
"I was drunk, okay? I know people who would do way more ridiculous stuff. "- he defended himself as far as possible. Making excuses there would make no sense.
"Oh, that certainly explains a lot."
Reading that answer on the next afternoon, Gilbert gave a soft laugh and ended up shaking his face sideways, amused.
It was then that he thought ... Oh, what the heck. That stranger didn't know who he was and had no other influence in his life besides that little exchange of messages. What harm would cause to have some small talk and laugh about that whole story with someone?
"Yeah, man. I mean, look at this crap. I wrote it using comics san in font twelve, leaving most of the page in blank. COMICS SAN. I'm studying advertising and marketing. This may be the note that will ruin my career in the future. "
Giving clues about his identity wasn't a very prudent measure but nah. The mysterious individual told Gilbert a little about themselves. It was only fair that Gilbert also wrote a little about himself. Just as saying that they weren't studying psychology was a very vague and ineffective tip to locate someone, saying he was studying advertising and publicity didn't meant that the stranger would be able to track him.
"Advertising and marketing? I thought people that studied that were good at manipulating words. "
Pfff! Oh god, that freaking pompous person from the bulletin board…! Let's just say kindness was not one of their outstanding qualities, apparently!
"And what do you mean by that?! Let me say that there should be only three or four people in this college with the same level of rhetoric abilities as me!"
"Do they have your modesty though?"
This made Gilbert laugh for a long, long time. He had to lay his hand on the wall to support his own body after laughing so hard.
"Okay, that was funny. What are you studying here? Linguistics?" - He asked, interested.
"Music, actually. I'm specializing in piano and composition. "
From this simple opening, they suddenly changed the branches of their discussion to their personal lives and what they thought of their classes and their lessons. They were two students of the humanities courses with different perspectives that could be widely debated and it wasn't difficult to find what to talk about in each one of their turns. They had well-formed opinions on various subjects, keen minds and a compatible sense of humour. Of course that it wasn't possible to have in-depth discussions on a communication vehicle like that but they could easily use it as some sort of chat. Which was sorta ironic, since Gilbert had the impression that the Anonymous person probably did not even know what a chat was.
The days passed and their ritual was kept. Every day, Gilbert checked in the afternoon if the wall had been updated and he never got disappointed.
There were limits on how much they could write on a single sheet of paper so the answers could never have a very long length. It was always something like "What is your favorite class?" "This one. What's yours? "... Also, sooner or later, the paper would be full and they wouldn't be able to continue with that ritual. Despite all that, Gilbert Beilschmidt was immensely enjoying the present and what he could take from it: a few laughs, a warm feeling at seeing a new message there and the curiosity that stirred his heart whenever he finished writing his own, thinking about how the strange would react to it.
Unfortunately, as they were the last two months of classes of the semester, at a certain point of the last month, it became very inconvenient for Gilbert to keep bothering to write and check messages on that bulletin board. Writing that stuff took some of his time, not mentioning what he wasted just going down the library, walking to the other block and then going back to the library once more to study for his afternoon classes. His concentration was completely broken in this process, something that disturbed his studies a lot. Probably even more than the time he used to get around from one place to the other. He couldn't keep that implicit commitment between him and the stranger. He needed to concentrate on getting good grades.
It was obvious that they would have to say goodbye eventually. This probably was the appropriate occasion for that.
It would be like pulling a bandage.
Lamenting a bit the indirect farewell that he was leaving in his last message, he wrote:
"Good luck on your finals, man. You are a bit annoying but this whole story was rather amusing. "
Would the stranger make any opposition to that?
"I also wish you luck. Make each one of your words your own."
No, he seemed to have understood. Reading this answer, Gilbert sighed, considered the matter concluded and stopped responding to that unknown person on the bulletin board.
He focused in his studies and in his tests, moving on with his life. However, even without touching it or seeing it and being aware that it wasn't being used, he could not bring himself to pull the note out of the place. He simply ... couldn't.
He had said his goodbye indirectly to the stranger, they were not talking anymore, and their story was practically finished, however he wasn't feeling able to put the final period mark on the story. Something inside him forced him to still leave it on open. It was as if, regardless of the circumstances, he could preserve something important if he didn't take of that paper from there.
When he finished his last test, he finally figured out his priorities and realized what he wanted all along.
He would like to keep talking with the stranger.
He really wanted it.
In all the past days, he had suppressed his desire to talk to him, so now that he was free of his academic responsibilities, it became difficult to contain his eager, impulsive willingness to answer the note.
... The last message from the strange did not have any parting content and it wasn't as if Gilbert had written an explicitly parting message. Technically, it was his turn in the move. It was his turn to respond and he would not know if the anonymous person didn't care anymore if he didn't try to say something to see if an answer would appear.
"What's up? How did you do on your tests? "- He wrote an attempt, forcing a casual tone in his words. He didn't want to seem too desperate.
Maybe it was useless to regain contact with the strange after two weeks of silence between them. Just for starters, it wasn't like they had a relationship that would fit in normal parameters, let alone a relationship that was easy to resume after a busy phase of their life. Not even good friends could do this sometimes.
Why bothering writing anything, then? Well, honestly, Gilbert just wanted to check if there was any fundament in his hopes. It was worth a try. If anonymous was still checking that note, he would be so happy and... Well, you know ... Uhh...!
Urgh. What was Gilbert doing with his life? His glorious existence in this world must have been intended for much greater things than exchanging messages with a stranger on a goddamn bulletin board. He was wasting his time, energy and thoughts on a pointless project. This was a total waste of time. And you know what?! That message would be his last! It would only serve to verify the anonymous person was still in the area and that's it! After all, anonymous shouldn't even be reading that thing anymore...!
"It went well. In fact, I'm a little frustrated with the low requirements of the exam. It was too easy. I feel that my efforts have not been compensated. "
...
...
!
Never had such an arrogant response provoked such a wave of happiness as that generated in Gilbert Beilschmidt.
Man, what a relief. He could hardly believe that that answer was there. He could hardly believe it really came from the good old anonymous person obsessed with grammar. Fortunately, there was no error. That impeccable handwriting was unmistakable, as well as the arrogant contents of those words.
Also… the best part? HA! If the stranger had answered Gilbert's last message on the very next day, that meant that the stranger continued checking their note daily! That certainly boosted Gilbert's ego because, okay, okay, he had been constantly thinking about the anonymous in these last days, which was a bit embarrassing buuuut Anonymous had done even more, as they had gone to the trouble of looking at that paper every day, waiting for his return. Therefore, Gilbert was still on the top and his actions couldn't be considered that shameful and pathetic and kinda desperate, since he was only empathically returning a part of the huge devotion the anonymous personinvested in him! HA, HA, HA!
"Man, your classmates must hate you." - He joked, writing his answer with a radiant smile. It was like the paper could release his joy.
"Am I such an unpleasant person to you?"
Something in that question transmitted a palpable insecurity that couldn't be ignored.
"Nah, you have some annoying sides. Nothing that I can't take." - He decided to answer, being honest. It seemed that the stranger needed a boost in self-esteem and a teasing joke was not appropriate to the moment.
This attention did not go unnoticed by Gilbert's correspondent.
"Thank you." - The stranger replied in a smaller font than usual, as if they were embarrassed to write it. Two (literally) little words and they showed more about the stranger than several developed and complex sentences.
Oh, fuck. It was amazing how freaking charming that person could be in messages with the maximum length of twitter.
Gilbert liked anonymous. That was undeniable on that point. Anonymous was funny. Also, weird in a cool and funny way. Not to mention that there were moments like that where he could be absolutely adorable. Gilbert liked that. Gilbert liked them. Oh yeah. Gilbert Beilschmidt was definitively interested in what he was seeing. It didn't take long for him to acquire the definitive certainty that he didn't want to risk letting their relationship abruptly shut down again.
"Hey, what's your name?" - He asked, 1267% willing to go look for the anonymous person and introduce himself to them, so they could go have a coffee or, at least, talk personally while walking around campus or something. They just needed to do something together, anything.
"I don't want to say it. At this point in our relationship, it would be a bit embarrassing to reveal myself to you."
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
Man, that made Gilbert smile. It made Gilbert smile a LOT.
"The point of our relationship? Which point? Ohhh! You got a crush on me, right? Got ya! You're so busted! Hahaha! "
"You fool. How could I have a crush on a complete stranger? We don't even know each other's age, gender or tastes."
"Yes but we know that we're able to keep up a dialogue for a month on a note posted on a bulletin board and it already shows there is a cool side of our personalities that we have in common. C'mon. I can learn all this new stuff about you if we meet!"
If there was, apparently, an interest in both parties, why not? That could work! They would not have to stress over the end of the space at the bottom of the paper because soon they would meet in person! It was the perfect solution. At least that was Gilbert's plan, an excellent one as usual, however...
"As you said, this is a public wall. It would be humiliating if my name was associated with something so shameful as our dialogue over the last months. "
Urghhhh! That person had to stop play hard to get! They LITERALLY had no space for that!
"The sheet is running out. I need to know your name. If I'm just a stranger, why would you get embarrassed by such nonsense? "
"You're only a stranger but a reader of our conversation can assume other things!"
Oh ... Oh. OH. Hmmmmmmmmmmm. Ha, ha!
"Heh. So you were actually looking at me with ulterior motives! "- he pointed out with a large teasing grin, even though anonymous couldn't actually see it at that moment.
"You foolish fool."
Hey, wait a moment! Anonymous didn't deny his statement! Pfffff! Gilbert would totally tease him using this information if they were not already writing ON THE EDGES OF THE DAMN PAPER due to the lack of space.
They had no time. They had no paper remaining. Gilbert urgently needed information to help him look for that person. It would be ridiculous to waste the potential on their relationship, the chances that they had of becoming good friends or maybe go on a few dates, simply because, oops, there was no blank space anymore. That was bullshit.
The worst part was that, while the anonymous person was unwilling to cooperate, Gilbert couldn't be the one to reveal himself because, duh, their whole conversation had begun precisely due to Gilbert's embarrassing public confession! It was not like Gilbert could say the equivalent of "It was me all along!" on a board that could be seen by Lizzy and by a bunch of strangers who didn't know enough about his formidable personality to properly deduce how extraordinary he was as a human being even though his message was written in COMICS SAN.
Putting a second paper there, looking for his unknown correspondent, wasn't an option either. Gilbert had been lucky not to have been caught the first time. He would not risk a second time. Putting a paper in the board took way more time and called more attention than just writing something on it.
Not to mention that, frankly, it would be bizarre and creepy to do such a thing. If the anonymous person had a minimum of common sense, they would definitely be suspicious of a stranger so insistent and obsessed.
Heck. Gilbert wouldn't blame them if they wanted to pull away after that. It was one thing to talk to a stranger by the usual device, trying to convince them that they should meet. Another thing, totally different, would be print a message exclusively to them saying "It's me. The Lizzy guy. Tell who you are, stranger. I'll be waiting. "... Almost a "serial killer in the area" alert.
"Your name, please." - Gilbert asked again, trying to transmit the urgency of this issue in each one of his words.
He would like to present all the arguments above but that would take away the space that the stranger could use to write their answer.
"No! It's embarrassing! "
What the hell! Everything would be so easy and simple without that unnecessary shyness! At first it was cute but it was becoming seriously inconvenient! They were into each other! What would it cost the stranger to give any clue about their identity? The embarrassment they might suffer probably wouldn't be half the size of the one that Gilbert would experience if he were the one exposed! The paper was in its margins. The semester was almost over. One way or another, if the anonymous didn't give any hint about his identity... Urgh.
That was fated to be just a funny story, like so many others, about a silly mistake made while he was drunk, wouldn't it? Sigh.
Let's go back to the beginning to make explanations that show the operation of the butterfly effect that ensured the meeting between the two individuals involved in this narrative.
That semester, Gilbert Beilschmidt had signed up only for afternoon classes. He was that type of guy who preferred spending the night awake and sleeping at morning. Afternoon classes were, therefore, more convenient to his lifestyle. It wasn't a healthy lifestyle but it was motivated by his habits and Gilbert was discovering that he was more guided by his habits than he cared to admit.
Every day he arrived midday in college, had lunch on campus, went up to the library and studied until his first class, always passing first by the usual wall to see if the Musical-Anonymous-Obsessed-With-Grammar had left an answer and always finding a update on it.
That was his routine throughout the whole course of this story.
However, in the last week of school, he had to make an unusual break in his rituals.
One of his teachers asked him to come receive the grade of the last essay of the semester, in person at his office, in the morning, and Gilbert was forced to change his schedules at that specific date. It was a bit annoying having to wake up so early, being the nocturnal creature that he was, and yet what other options he had?
So seven in the morning, there he was, sitting at a desk in the office of his teacher, having to listen to some boring and too long encouragements for him to produce a scientific article using some of the themes explored in his final essay of the semester and blah-blah-blah. He answered politely but with obvious disinterest in that scheme, and went to the exit as soon as he could. No articles. He didn't want to pursue an academic career.
Upon leaving, he was quite stressed and since the students in the morning were still in their rooms and the library wouldn't open until nine, it occurred to him that maybe that was a good time to go write his answer on the bulletin board.
After all, writing on that paper was a habit that always made him happy, he had nothing better to do and it would be very unlikely for someone to catch him at that time. As the saying goes, desperate times called for desperate students to ignore their schedules to meet their vital needs (or something along these lines).
He went ahead with it and wrote earlier than normal:
"We're almost running out of space. Please? You look like a funny person. Come on."
At that time, he was almost surrendering. That wouldn't happen. Thanks to the stubbornness of Apparently-Shy-Anonymous, the semester or the paper would end along with their relationship.
Less stressed, however discouraged, Gilbert decided next to go eat a snack in the cafeteria. There he started thinking about everything that happened in the last two months and about the imminent end of the chain of events. They were in the last week of classes. The campus was almost empty. The few people still on campus were those who had to make late tests due to sicknesses, deliver essays at the last moment or receive their grades in person. The timer was in his final seconds. Even anonymous wouldn't bother to come to college on summer break just to leave messages for a stranger in a full paper sheet. If Gilbert didn't find a way to keep the connection between them, using other methods, the whole deal would be over in no time.
Things had to end that way? So ... inconclusive? Was there any chance that he could at least extend their conversations just a little bit more? Maybe if they kept talking, Nerd-Anonymous would end up being persuaded to reveal his identity IRL. Who knows?
Gilbert thought and thought and thought, drinking a cup of hot chocolate. Looking at the bottom of his empty cup with anxiety, he finally concluded that if any events related to music occurred during the holidays, Anonymous probably would go to them.
This was possibly his only chance to talk with anonymous for a few additional days. He couldn't miss it. Sure, it wasn't an effective or reliable plan, but it was the best he could get at the time. With that in mind, he got up and went to check if the bulletin board had any flyers advertising music events for the holidays.
From what some would call a coincidence, others would call destiny, Gilbert considered lucky and some people considered a huge bad luck in the first moment, when Gilbert returned to the board, he came across some nerd doing something there.
The nerd gave him a rather hostile glance, after realizing his presence, and then returned to do what he was doing as if to not be disturbed.
Initially, Gilbert didn't give a damn about it. Since he had already written his answer on paper, now he was just a normal student going to check if the college would have events on holiday. He would go his own way and that nerd could do whatever he was doing.
That wasn't how the nerd took it though.
From time to time, he kept looking over at what Gilbert was doing, exhibiting a displeased pout and frowning his eyebrows, appearing to be really suspicious of Gilbert. Heh, he really looked like an aristocrat with that prideful attitude. The wannabe young lord seemed to be extremely defensive, which was completely unnecessary, it must be said. Gilbert couldn't care less about what he had to settle there. He had his own nerd to worry about.
Speaking about that, he checked all the flyers and papers on the bulletin board, looking for any event during summer break related to music, but had no luck. He only found a blues concert, which he doubted that the Old-fashioned-Anonymous would go, and a lecture on the influence of punk music in the 70s that also really didn't seemed like the Anonymous cup of tea.
In the end, Gilbert only hopes came to be the only two or three flyers that he had not yet read because they were on the side where Mr. Don't-Invade-My-Personal-Space was.
Since at that time, Gilbert was very impatient and too annoyed to care about sensibilities, he took the necessary course of action and got behind him to check the last papers, ignoring the complaints and criticisms of the young lord who kept saying that "I need privacy," "Can't you wait a second?" "I was here first and I refuse to move because of you."
Unlike him, Gilbert was perfectly fine with ignoring him to deal with his own business when, to his immense surprise, he realized that the aristocrat was writing on his paper on the wall.
What?
Seriously, what?!
That shameless jackass! He did not know that that note was his and... ?! Now, wait a second. Why did that guy's handwriting look so familiar?
Like, It didn't even stand out in the paper. Gilbert couldn't clearly read what the aristocrat had written, while they were in that position, still there was something very strange in the way how that handwriting, well ... it was not strange.
That snobbish air, those nerd traits, those grumpy and well articulated answers, that pompous handwriting that blended so well in the paper... HOLY SHIT.
"Nerd obsessed with grammar?!" Gilbert just dropped these words, pointing to the young lord, open-mouthed.
The young lord took a few seconds to process what was going on, simply staring blankly at Gilbert for the first moment. He pressed his eyes as if seeking in his memory files some identification to that strange face, and simultaneously wondering why the hell he was being insulted in that unusual way. Perhaps even analyzing whether to be offended or not. The aristocrat, apparently, had a looong reaction time.
After some time pondering, he finally realized.
"Oh! So you are…!" His eyebrows nearly jumped out of his face and his mouth was open in an oval shape. Gilbert smiled at him, putting his hands in his pockets and shrugged, as if to say 'Yeah. Thrilled?'.
They had finally met.
What would the aristocrat say? What kind of face was he going to do? Gilbert was so eager to see his reaction. He was practically bouncing inside. There was so much that they needed to discuss! About their first meeting, about the chances that turned them into friends, about everything he had experienced in those conversations in recent weeks, about all the doubts that he had accumulated during this period due to the lack of space on the sheet to mention them... Wow! There was so much that they needed to put in day!
Unable to contain his anxiety, Gilbert opened his mouth to say the ten thousand things he wanted to talk to his correspondent for such a long time. It was at that moment that the young lord turned around and basically… tried to flee.
Seriously.
Gilbert's immediate instinct was to hold him by the wrist. He was able to catch him in time. However he couldn't possibly feel satisfied with it, when the term for what he did was "catch him in time".
That didn't feel right AT ALL and he was not proud of the first impression he was causing but, please, give him a break! He wasn't thinking straight at that moment! The aristocrat's reaction had been extremely offensive and he was overwhelmed with loads of contradictory feelings. I mean, the young lord had not given him a chance even as a human being. Run away? What the fuck! Gilbert had barely said ten words to him before being so badly judged!
To think that he really thought that the two of them were getting along! What the actual fuck was that?! Fucking hell, young lord!
"Hey, wait a second, aristocrat!" he complained, justifiably agitated. The irrational reaction of Nerd-Obsessed-About-Grammar generated his irrational reaction, making Gilbert act in an explosive momentum that contained a great, great deal of pain deep inside. "We finally met and you run away from me?!"
The young lord said nothing in response and stood with his back hand to Gilbert, whose patience was being tested to its limits.
A thousand thoughts were running through Gilbert's mind.
Had he actually done something to deserve a reaction like that? What did he do? He was wrong about the impression he got about the aristocrat? The young lord didn't want to meet him? Why did Gilbert deserve a treatment like that? Was he only worsening the situation by stopping the aristocrat? Oh, shit.
Anger, pain, confusion. A lot of negative feelings fell on Gilbert, embittering his mouth and curling the corners of his mouth.
He firmly gripped the arm of the young lord and approached him to ask what was going on, already a bit afraid of the answer.
At that moment, he saw something that made his jaw almost drop from his face. "You ... You're blushing!" Gilbert was stunned.
"No." The young lord was quick to respond in a firm tone of voice. "You're mistaken."
Yeah, he was freaking blushing.
His ears and your neck were an intense scarlet tone, as if he was having heat stroke. He was struggling to hide his face, however, Gilbert could still see in the few visible portions of skin that the young lord was red as someone with a fever.
"No, no! For real!" Gilbert insisted, trying to get the aristocrat to stop trying to hide his face. "You are so pale that it's easy to notice it!"
Why the young lord was acting like that? He didn't need to be embarrassed like that just because they were finally in each other's presence, considering that they have talked for about a month with no problems. Unless... Ohhhhh!
"What?" He smiled provocatively, putting his hands upward in an arrogant gesture. "You were mesmerized by my undeniable charm after seeing me in person?"
The aristocrat's shoulders shrank in the same second this subject was brought up, which was a possible sign that he was back to his defensive stance.
"You shouldn't come with these stupid jokes when you aren't even gay..." he said in a whisper that sounded like a growl with a layer of resentment. Now, where did that resentment and especially that heteronormative conclusion came from?
"I'm bisexual so it's okay?" Gilbert blinked, confused.
The aristocrat was taken by surprise with that statement and turned to him with an incredulous look.
"What?" This was the first time that Gilbert got a good look of his eyes. Even being slightly wide, they were amazing. They had a shade of blue that resembled the violet colour, dark, deep. They were like oceans around the glaciers of the placid expression of that young lord. Although they were mostly shocked, if carefully examined, right in the bottom of them you could find what appeared to be a glimmer of hope. Even if they still showed some fear and hesitation, they were a bit brighter than they were a second ago, like the ones of a person who receives such a large and unexpected prize that secretly fears that it is a catch.
Oh...
Now Gilbert was getting it.
The aristocrat was worried, embarrassed and nervous because he KNEW there was an obvious chemistry between them.
HOWEVER, because he did not know the gender or sexual orientation of Gilbert until that moment, he must have mistakenly assumed that the fact that both are men would change something in the dynamics of their relationship.
Taking a moment to examine the perspective of the young lord, the paper sheet that had caused all that had the words "BE MY LIZZY" and Lizzy is a female name. His conclusion was not entirely baseless. Maybe he was afraid that everything would change if Gilbert discovered that the person with whom he had been flirting for a few weeks was a guy.
Oh, young lord. What a disoriented, awkward and precious being he was.
"What about you?" He smiled a lot more comfortable and calm, arching his eyebrows and putting his hands in his pants pockets. "Any chance you would accept my invitation to go to a bar?"
"Look at my very delighted expression at your invitation to go to a bar," said the young master in an expression that somehow didn't have a slight, not even a microscopic, drop of delight. It made Gilbert laugh. A lot.
"Pfff! I was kidding, I was kidding! Let's go to a café! What you think?" he assured as he tried to calm his wave of laughter. Wiping tears in his eyes, he asked, optimistic, "Any chance that you accept this as a date or do I have to say 'no homo'?"
The aristocrat rolled his eyes in an overdramatic manner that was very comical to Gilbert's eyes.
"How desperate are you to find a partner?" he questioned in a disapproving tone. "I thought you were interested in that Miss Lizzy?
"Okay, two things," he stopped the young lord right there. "First, I have been over this stuff with Lizzy since two centuries ago. To be honest, I've never been very serious about it. We are friends and I was drunk when I left this message here. Second, this type of comment is offensive, you know. I could have assumed that you were referring to my sexual orientation and that typical generalization that bisexuals want to grab everything and everyone..."
It was probably not the case, though. Considering that the young lord had developed a crush on a person who had a crush on a "Lizzy" and no gender indication, he probably had a similar orientation to Gilbert. Still, it was good to hear him refute that accusation vigorously as he did.
"I am not doing that," he replied immediately. "As a person who does not put gender as a factor of attraction, I couldn't judge someone in a similar position. I already have too many criteria for my love interests to care about something so small. In fact, I could divide these criteria into five categories and at least twenty-five subcategories."
Oh, damn. Gilbert really, really liked this nerd obsessed with grammar whose emotional reactions were mild and that could divide your criteria for choosing a partner into twenty-five subcategories (without exaggeration, probably) so much.
"Don't worry. I get it, I get it." Gilbert settled down, putting his hands forward in a gesture that said he could stop. "Well, if you're just referring to me as an individual while complaining of my criteria for choosing someone... Do you really think that a person of my caliber needs to throw stones everywhere to see if I manage to capture a bird?"
"That was the most grotesque metaphor I've ever heard." Again, the salient criticism of the young lord surfaced. "Are you really a student of advertising and marketing?"
"Of course I am! And I can tell you more details if you follow me to a cafe." He moved his eyebrows suggestively, not losing his pose, despite the provocations.
"You are persistent," this complaint was made in a gentle tone, which did not contain real irritation, while the young lord shook his head sideways with a hint of smile on his face.
"Says the person who was answering a personal note on a bulletin board for over a month," Gilbert shot back.
"You really have some potential in advertising and marketing." He sighed as if resigned. "I don't understand why but I don't feel able to refuse your invitation. Follow me, please."
"That sounds like music to my ears," he said with the corners of his mouth very high and experiencing the sweet taste of the victory accompanied by an indirect teasing joke.
"Don't think I didn't notice your stupid pun about my field of studies." He rolled his eyes, heading off campus, and happily followed by a satisfied Gilbert Beilschmidt.
"I knew you would notice!" He let out a huge mocking laugh "Why do you think I said that?"
And that was the end of the most epic drunk story of all times, the beginning of Gilbert's relationship with his future husband and also the undeniable proof that even the supposed nonsense made by Gilbert when he was completely drunk, in the long-term, brought brilliant results and shouldn't be censured in any way (or at least, that's what he tries to convince people of, when he tells this story, even though he always conveniently omits the detail that he used comics san on that, oh so fateful, public note).